February 16, 2014

Anything else you wanna fucking complain about.

Well the lying skank and the new boy who she wasn’t cheating on the first guy with, who moved in within a week of the first guy getting carried off in handcuffs by da po-lice, have moved out.

About a week ago someone else moved in, no idea who, until this morning.

So I get up and chill, about 10 am I decide I should really get my shit together, do housework, do paperwork, do laundry, so I hit the icon on the desktop for silverjuke, and hit the power switch on the stereo amp instead of relying on the TV speakers.

All the volumes are set, I never touch them, loud enough to hear the music and just about drown out the traffic on the main road outside, and the trains on the track just the other side of that, but not so loud as to be annoying, or so loud I can’t have a conversation on the mobile phone in the same room as the speakers.

Sure, you’re bound to hear *something* outside / next door, but the volume slider on silverjuke is set around 10% and the volume knob on the Technics SA200L driving the Technics 5B-X1 speakers is set at around 2.5 (out of 10) and this is a 30+30 WRMS stereo amp… I state all this to make it clear I am not talking reggae specials with a 400 watt per channel mosfet driving Orange 18″ reflex bins and full range horns, which I used to run back in the day when I was married and all that shit.

So, the cunt upstairs knocks the door, I think she knocked it before, I’m not sure because I was having a shower and then in the workshop, and I think I heard something but my policy is my front door, I answer it if I feel like it, and I probably won’t feel like it unless I am expecting you to call.

So I answer the door and there she is, slim, late 30’s, European, not good looking, and says hi I am whatever her fucking name is from upstairs.

I say OK, hi.

She says can I turn my music down, as she is trying to work… I’m like, WTF, it’s not loud, well she says she can hear it and it is disturbing her and stopping her working, so can I turn it down.

I say no, it’s not loud.

She says she is being reasonable here, and trying to work with me to achieve a solution, and by the way, she doesn’t like smelling my smoke either.

I don’t believe for a second she can actually smell my tobacco smoke, it is a racing certainty that what she can smell, if anything, is the joss.

I tell her, you rented a fucking flat on a main road, next to a railway line, in a student area of town, and the fucking flat is a converted house, so the sound insulation ain’t what it should be, and I ain’t turning my fucking music down, and if she doesn’t like all of that she should have rented somewhere else.

So you ain’t going to be reasonable and turn it down, she says, I tell her no, and start to close the door in her face, this “conversation” is going nowhere, so she has the hump and turns away saying she won’t say good day, because she doesn’t wish me well.

Aye, fuck you too.

It’s just as well the roles aren’t reversed, as the stopcocks for her water supply, and gas supply, and the breaker for her electric supply are all in the cupboard in MY FUCKING FLAT, and I have access to them, and she don’t, cos you know what the bitch would do.

As it is I am sat here at 13:00, the music has been on for three hours and to be honest I’d probably have turned it off by now, but fuck it, it’s staying on till 15:30 when I go out.

We’ll see about “being fucking reasonable” when what she really means is trying to tell me how to live my life in my flat that I fucking pay for.

If the boot was on the other foot, even if the music was fucking LOUD, I wouldn’t have the fucking nerve to ask some other fucker to turn it down in the middle of the fucking day, especially as this is the first time she bothered to introduce herself, been there a fucking week and never has the courtesy to knock the door and say hi I am your new neighbour, first time she does is to fucking complain.

You know, if you don’t want neighbours, go live in the sticks with no neighbours, if you have neighbours, they are gonna roll up some nights at 3am, they are gonna have the odd party, they are gonna smoke or drink or do other things you don’t do, and that’s fucking life, deal with it.

It was plainly bloody obvious from this bitch’s face that she is used to getting her own fucking way, and it did NOT go down well when she got told where to get off, still, suits me, whereas before I might have had a bit of consideration and not played Skyrim at 2am, or turned the volume down after 10 pm if I was watching a film, now I don’t give a fuck.

Without exception, when I have “issues” like these with neighbours, it is one of two things.

1/ some entitlement bitch wimminz like her upstairs now.

2/ some niggerz who has been shamed and sent around by his owner subsequent to #1 above because I didn’t listen to the bitch and do as she commanded.

I’ve been in this place two years now, rent is paid in full automatically by standing order on the due date, and utility bills are paid in full by e-banking within 24 hours of getting them, bitch upstairs is the 4th tenant in the time I have been here, and in any event the laws governing tenants rights and such things as nuisance, enjoyment of your own home, and music etc are fairly strong here in the UK…. no loud music after 22:30 hours, but apart from that you can do pretty much anything you want to enjoy the peace of your own home, and that most certainly does not extend to telling other fuckers how to live.

As far as landlords are concerned I am an ideal tenant, bills always paid in full on the nail, and no slack periods between tenants, it’s money for old rope.

Now, I’m not saying that I am the easiest person on the planet to actually co-habit with, but even there most people don’t have an issue, but neighbours are a separate thing, and I make a fucking good neighbour, if you stick to minding your own fucking business and not mine.

I think once in my life in the UK I knocked on a neighbours door and asked them to keep it down, and that was at 2 am when the party was still in full flow, and it wasn’t the music so much as all the shouting and banging, yeah man, I’ll see what I can do, I was told, I went back in to my place and 10 seconds later I see a police car pull up, and think uh oh, someone else has complained, this could get interesting, and just after both po-lice exit the car a small wooden chair comes flying through an upstairs window and lands on the bonnet of the police car, which ended that party, and goes some way to illustrate that I was not being unreasonable, nor was I being unreasonable the next day when I told them to clean the glass from their window off the pavement, kids and dogs used that daily…. next door was a pair of fags, and they used to fight regular as clockwork every friday night, so I knew which way the party in question was going, and had no wish to see da po-lice turn up.

And it is at times like that, that I am sorely tempted to break my own rules and actually wish I could just bring myself to pick up the phone and get an ex skank in particular to come around for an evening of fucking, because the ex skank in question was a fairly good fuck, but an incredibly noisy and vocal one, and I’d quite like to treat her upstairs to the experience of that rising through the floorboards.

Or maybe get some Indians in and start brewing up industrial quantities of curry.

Nah, not going to do any of them, what actually burns my piss is sitting here knowing that the real fucking problem is none of these cunts have been forced to deal with enough men to reel their fucking necks in and mind their own business instead of everyone else’s.

If I wanted your nagging, bitch, I’d fucking marry you.

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4 Comments

I’ve found that the noisiest neighbors are generally the ones that complain the most frequently. It’s as though there’s a certain breed that feels no one is allowed to party but them. I have a few albums especially for the edification of such nitwits. Ministry’s Filth Pig (1995) has a killer bass line. Schönberg’s Pierrot Lunaire is simultaneously beautiful and disconcerting to be subjected to involuntarily. Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music is the “big gun” for people who just won’t shut the fuck up.

How about this one, that Beethoven arranged before his death?
It should make cats run away during their rape-gang-bangs. 😉
Or his 5th close to the supposed speed but still humanly possible https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gXdWELSgEQ